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Gross and Boring (Or Thank God for Sleepovers)

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As soon as their feet touched solid ground, Hermione had leapt into his arms, kissing him with passionate abandon. Harry forcefully yanked open the door and swept her inside. Now safely enclosed in their home, husband and wife could focus on their immediate desires for each other.

Hermione found herself being pressed between her husband and the hard wall, as he devoured her lips with his own. Their kiss deepened as tongues moved to reacquaint with each other. A long sigh escaped her as pleasure coursed through her at the familiar dance of tongue and lip.

Harry’s hands weren’t idle. One found the sequin of her dress and parted it to trace a gentle trail up her thigh to finally hold the flesh of her bum. The other smoothed reverently across the back of her dress and up to where it revealed the bare skin beneath. In her daze of pleasure, Hermione realized the setup and wrapped both legs around Harry’s waist in anticipation.

Her suspicion was affirmed when, with a heave, her form was lifted from the wall. She felt herself ascending the stairs in the arms of her husband, and in her relish of his strength, she unwound one arm from around his neck to affectionately cup the sandpaper texture of his shaven jaw. Said jaw was still active in dancing with her own, for their kiss had yet to fully end between the mixed breaths, sighs, and moans that were dispersed throughout their delicious kiss.

The door to their bedroom was kicked shut, and Hermione felt herself being slowly lowered. When her legs finally touched the floor, the couple pulled away from each other to gasp for breath. Hermione flattened her palms on Harry’s chest and slid down to the top button of his vest, beginning to unbutton it and all that would follow. Harry slipped his arms from his jacket, letting it fall as he cupped her face and drew it back to his in another kiss. His vest opened as she finished the last button. That task complete, she seized him by the tie and dragged him back with her toward their bed.

Harry’s warm hands left her cheeks and began sliding softly down her neck and toward her shoulders, sweeping away her shawl to reveal where the sleeves of her dress had been firmly hanging from all night. A light push from his gentle hands, and her shoulders were fully bare to the cool air of their home. Gravity did the rest, and Hermione felt her dress begin to slowly fall away as she herself fell back onto the bed.

He followed her, breaking their kiss to trail a pilgrimage with his lips down the column of her neck. He arrived at a sacred point where her pulse could be felt by his lips, and he pressed them firmly on that spot, suckling there. Hermione moaned as hot pleasure shot from that spot like lightning to inflame the heat in her core. Her moan turned into a cry of “Yes!” when the softest touch of Harry’s teeth amplified the feeling a second time and ensured a mark come the dawn.

Harry finally shrugged out of his vest and flung it to some dark corner of their bedroom. He felt his wife drag him by the tie back up to her waiting lips for a third snogging. Said tie was loosed from around his neck and flung away, as her hands came alive to unbutton his shirt. He sent his hands to where her dress still covered her breasts, and the wonderful mounds were set free from their confines.

Assured that he had paid enough homage to her mouth, he trailed feather-light kisses back down her throat, past her pulse point, and over her clavicle to begin climbing the small hill of her breast. Arriving at the peak, he took her nipple into his mouth to give further praise to the body of the woman he loved. A woman who threaded her hands into his hair to hold him at the place that sent a crackling pleasure through her veins and along every nerve in her body.

Her hands locked into his hair, Harry continued their work and unbuttoned his shirt. After sweeping it out from under his pants, he set one to cup her unworshipped breast in apology. The other continued urging her dress down her torso. Switching his reverence to her other breast, his tongue flicked at the pebble of her nipple. His teeth gave the softest touch there in recompense, and he was rewarded with near sobs of pleasure from Hermione, who arched into the physical praise of her flesh.

Harry rejoined his lips to those of his wife after a time spent lavishing her breasts. Her warm hands trailed fire as they swept his shirt from his shoulders and down his arms. He raised himself up to fully remove the offending material from his strong form, and Hermione seized her chance to undo his belt and set free the button and fly.

When her Harry was finally shirt free, Hermione dragged him back down and flipped them over the straddle this waist. She moaned at the feeling of his member trying to stand up in eager anticipation of what only a couple layers of cloth veiled. She backed down to the edge of the bed, dragging his trousers with her to let them and her dress pool at the foot. Shoes were kicked off, socks were peeled away, and then only a set of briefs and panties were keeping their most intimate parts separated.

Harry acted first, rolling to press Hermione once again into the soft sheets and mattress. He trailed another pilgrimage down from her lips, making love to her pulse point, fervently worshipping her breasts, and kissing the plains of her abdomen, he finally arrived at her undergarments. With the dazedness of a groom, he lifted the elastic from her skin and slid his fingertips down her legs to fully bare her naked beauty to allow his full, unrestricted love to claim all.

As though her revealed flesh was a precious gem, his hands traced a gentle caress over the wet lips of her most sacred place. She gasped in delight at the gentle touch and sighed in joy when a fierce kiss followed the caress. That roguish tongue made flattery to her core, wickedly sending waves of magical fire all throughout her being. Her hands traced scriptures into his hair as she cried aloud in exaltation of this blessed torture.

“Ohh…yes…mmmm…my love…Harry…YES!” Hermione sung in praise, as he continued his lavishing of pleasure into her very center. She relished in his ministry, as her pleasure built and heightened to that peak she longed to cast herself from. His hand, in blind zealotry, traced a liturgy of tenderness up to her breast. There, he began playing a melody of music on her nipple that sent her bonfire of euphoria into an inferno. Her own hand joined the music there, and her voice sung a chorus of praise as her body went supernova. Her back arched as every nerve in her lit up with the light of the sun. Harry lapped at the divine nectar that was his reward for a beautiful service rendered unto his most treasured angel. An angel who trembled in heavenly awe at each sip he took.

Satisfied, but not spent, Hermione heaved the divine form of her husband back up her. She claimed his lips as her altar and tasted the incense that was her own on his tongue. As her stores of hair were displayed for his eyes to marvel, she walked a ritualistic path through his black forest of hair, all while still paying devout homage at the altar of his lips and tongue. The memory of his service still lay breathing in her, and she intended to keep that flame alight.

She coiled a leg around his waist and heaved, reversing their positions. She swept the veil her hair had made to gaze in aroused wonder and tender love at this man that lay beneath her gaze. His loving hand traced a slow psalm of affection over her cheek. Her own hand embraced the author and held him fast to let her eyes meet his own. The congregation of greens in those eyes called her pews of browns to meet in a darkened temple built from a kiss.

Her hands mapped the holy geography of his powerful form. Each muscled received a loving prayer memorized long before. Their pilgrimage arrived at the tabernacle that housed his sacred monument. With tempered eagerness, she removed the dwelling from his hips, urging its exodus down the blessed expanse of his legs to be cast into the void of their room. One hand grasped at the sacred idol that was now revealed, drawing forth a groan from him.

“Oh, Hermione,” he called out in delight. Their kiss resumed, and she made an oath to his length with gentle, reverent strokes. Her lips left his to breath a chorus of kisses down the muscled planes of his godsent form. Her hair trailed lines of charity behind, while his muscles quivered in acceptance of their offerings.

She arrived at the sacred monument of his masculinity and anointed it with her lips in small ceremony. A moan of satisfaction from her sent the vibrations through his body. His hands went among the masses of her hair to minister to them, as her lips preached upon his length. His hands called her back to the altar of his lips, for the moment of the holiest union was upon them.

Harry’s monument was set at the entrance to her temple. Their lips paused their chorus to let their eyes meet in silent prayers of love and desire. Their breath mumbled a mantra of pants to accompany the silent prayers. And then, revelation came upon them. Harry slowly pushed in, and they sighed in glorious rapture.

Hermione rose up and sank down again, to which she groaned in delight. Harry pulled back and thrust up, wherein he sighed in fulfillment. Together, they partook in the blessed sacrament of their union, gyrating into each other amid their sighs of pleasure. Their lips met in another jubilant choir, singing each other’s praises and preaching their love for each other. Their rapturous ceremony built in fervor, rocking them to the core. The lightning of pleasure arced throughout and between them, drawing them up to that amazing summit.

“Oh…oh…oh my…Harry!” Hermione moaned in abandon. Harry, intently devoted to this crusade of pleasure, kissed her soundly. His kiss inflamed her passion, and she began grinding on him fanatically. Their desire for each other set them alight, and in a last bid for a glorious finale, Harry sat up and anointed Hermione’s breasts with his mouth one final time. That arc of white-hot sensation crashed like a tidal wave through her, casting her from the mountain to fall into her salvation. Her rapturous scream of delight and satisfaction echoed in his ears as she came, quivering around him like a vice. He followed her down from that peak, spilling himself into her. They landed back on Earth much later, finding they had fallen back onto their bed sometime after their climax and still trembling in sanctification.

As she lay atop him, panting for breath, Hermione couldn’t help but let out a small laugh and how…good…it still felt. She melted off of Harry to pool beside him, her bones still feeling like jello. Her eyes found his as he rolled to face her.

“Wow…” she said, still catching her breath. Harry smiled tenderly, attempting to hide the pride he felt at having rendered this genius that was his wife speechless. He pressed a gentle, unhurried kiss to her lips, and she received him in kind.

“I love you, Hermione,” he whispered to her.

“I love you too, Harry,” she answered in kind. They lay there for several more moments, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Harry, whose breathing had returned to normal, began tracing gentle patterns across her skin. This had the effect of sending ticklish sensations across Hermione’s sensitive skin and sparking anew the fire in her. Her eyes met Harry’s, and they smoldered with desire. Their lips met again, and the night would again bear witness to their love-making.

After all, it was still Valentine’s Day.